


Mes Propres Mains

by PenguinPickle



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Athos makes more tea, Athos makes tea and gives Aramis soup, Hurt/Comfort, some crying but not a lot, the most quiet Aramis has ever been
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-19
Updated: 2017-04-21
Packaged: 2018-10-20 22:46:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10672335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PenguinPickle/pseuds/PenguinPickle
Summary: The first and last time Aramis woke Porthos from a nightmare.





	1. Chapter 1

It was quite a blessing, Aramis had thought, that he and his two brothers had rooms right beside each other, with Porthos' in the middle. As he released his right hand from Porthos' wrist to grab the brass candlestick on the bedside table, he knew that if his idea did not work, he was going to die. He took the candle stick and threw it against the wall with as much strength as he could muster while being choked. It made a noise he hoped would wake Athos up and he returned his hand to Porthos' wrist in an attempt to once again pry his hands off his throat.

Porthos was a strong man, there was never a single doubt about that. Yet even in their sparring practices Aramis had not once felt the full power of his brother. Looking back at the incident, he was most certainly in the wrong. Porthos was always a peaceful sleeper so Aramis had been alarmed when he'd stepped into Porthos' room to find his face distressed and a thin layer of sweat on his forehead. Naturally, Aramis had moved closer to shake his brother awake. After Porthos didn't budge and continued to groan, Aramis had assumed he was having a nightmare. So he'd done what Porthos had always done when the scenario was reversed; he gently cupped Porthos' face to wake him slowly.

Unfortunately for Aramis, there were two things working against him that night. The first, and most important fact of the night was that it was very dark in the room. The overcast sky was letting very little moonlight in. The second was Porthos' speed. For someone who was half asleep, Porthos' arms came up surprisingly fast, much like a pair of snakes that had been waiting to strike. Of course, in the first second of being strangled by his brother, Aramis remained as calm as he could. He moved one hand up to Porthos' right arm and the other to his shoulder to pat it gently in a message he thought would be interpreted as, 'it's alright, it's just me.'

Porthos' eyes were open and angry and when Aramis patted his shoulder he growled and tightened his grip. That was the moment Aramis had started to panic a little. He grabbed both of Porthos' wrists and tried to yank them away but his strength was not even a tiny bit close to Porthos'. It never was.

The moment Aramis started to panic a little more was when he had tried to say Porthos' name but all that came out was a soft squeak. His throat was no longer pulling air into his lungs and he was starting to see little black dots in his vision. For a split second he was distracted by how they danced around the room as he looked for something, anything, to hit Porthos with.

The instant his eyes focused on the candlestick in the dark, he knew that he was not going to try to knock Porthos out with it. Even with his life being threatened, Aramis could never do that and was sure it would not even work considering his weakened state. So, he'd opted to throw it against the wall and hoped Athos was there and would come investigate. Aramis was beginning to lose consciousness and started to panic. He didn't want to imagine Porthos waking up properly and coming to his senses with Aramis lying unconscious on his bed. He wondered if Porthos would stop if he just stopped trying to get his hands off his neck and relaxed, play dead in other words. He didn't have time to try his experiment however, as Athos opened the door in that moment with half asleep eyes and a frown on his face. Aramis strained to look at him and vaguely noticed that the black dots had grown significantly.

With a full body jolt, Athos had obviously realised what was happening and dashed over, yelling at Porthos.

"Porthos! Porthos stop!" He yelled, his voice uncharacteristically panicky as he tried with all his strength to pull at Porthos' hands, "Stop it! Let go! Porthos, you're going to kill him!"

Aramis' eyes were beginning to droop and, just before Athos punched Porthos in the face, he thought in that moment he was actually going to die, by the hands of his brother. Porthos startled from the punch with a grunt and let go, releasing Aramis and causing him to topple to the floor.

Through the sound of his own coughing and the pounding in his head, Aramis was very vaguely aware of Athos' harsh breathing and wondered worriedly if Athos had had a panic attack. He felt a hand rubbing his back and someone telling him to breath. Aramis registered that it was Athos' voice and did his very best to breathe as deeply as he could, even though his light headedness was getting much worse.

"What…?" He heard Porthos' voice from behind them and heard him get off his bed, "Did someone punch me?"

"Yes." Athos answered sharply.

Aramis cringed. Athos should not be angry, Porthos would never do something like this deliberately.

"What's going on?" He heard Porthos say, "Aramis?"

He could hear Porthos step closer but could not register much besides the pattern of the wood on the floor which his cheek was resting on.

"Athos?" He heard Porthos say again, "What's going on? What happened?"

Aramis felt Porthos touch his shoulder and closed his eyes.

"He's passing out, lets get him on the bed."

Athos' voice was the last thing Aramis was aware of.

Aramis woke up with the feeling that someone was staring at him and it made him a little uncomfortable. He didn't open his eyes and kept very still. He was aware of the sounds of birds and realised it had to be morning. As the memories of what had transpired came back to him, he wondered if it had all just been a ridiculous dream. He opened his eyes slowly to allow them to adjust to the light and realised he was lying in Porthos' bed.

Upon waking up properly, he felt that his head was pounding with determination and he also found the source of the staring. Porthos was sitting in a wooden chair about a meter from the bed. He looked… unwell. His eyes were bloodshot and his skin pale. He was on the edge of his seat and was staring at Aramis as if he were about to sprout a pair of wings.  
"Mmm… P'ths?" Aramis croaked and realised with a sharp pain in his throat that what happened was no dream. His hand went to his neck where he felt a bandage. His throat was aching and he grimaced slightly though did not move his eyes away from Porthos'.

Porthos stood up and walked to the bed. He very lightly moved Aramis' hand away and looked into his eyes.

"Don't touch it, and don't try to speak." He whispered, his voice straining under careful control.

Aramis gazed at him, taking in the red in his eyes and the way his hand shook violently as it made contact with Aramis' own. Just as Aramis reached out to take Porthos' hand, his brother pulled it away and strode out of the room, closing the door behind him. Aramis heard his footsteps recede until there was silence. Then he heard a brief muffled conversation of raised voices and then silence.

For some reason, Aramis felt incredibly alone. Just as he yanked the blankets away and swung his legs over the bed, ignoring his pounding head, Athos marched into the room, leaving the door swinging behind him.

"Don't you dare." He said and lifted Aramis' legs back on the bed and tucked him back in forcefully.

Athos gave a strained smile and said, "No speaking for you, therefore no arguments."

He continued to tuck Aramis in unnecessarily and stopped only when Aramis grabbed his arm. They made eye contact and Athos seemed to deflate a little.

"I'm sorry…" Athos whispered, "I could not get him to stay. Nor could Treville."

Aramis' heart started to pick up speed as the words sunk in. Athos read the confusion on his face and went to retrieve the chair to pull it closer. After sitting in silence for a few seconds he looked at Aramis with a forlorn expression.

"After what happened… do you remember what happened?" He asked.

Aramis nodded and Athos continued, "After what happened, Porthos became extremely distressed. I had to force him to drink a cup of wine to calm him down. He stayed here the rest of the night and watched over you with me. I couldn't console him. You and I both know he had no idea who he was attacking."

Aramis nodded again and straightened in the bed. Athos eyed him for a moment and continued.

"He wouldn't listen. He just sat in this chair all night."

'Crying.' Aramis thought, his heart sinking. It was plain to see on Porthos' face.

"Early this morning," Athos said, "He left the room after gathering his belongings. He handed his uniform to Treville and left the rest of his belongings outside this door, ready to leave as soon as you woke. There was nothing Treville or I could say to make him stay."

Alarmed, Aramis yanked the blankets away again and tried to climb out of bed.

"Aramis! No!" Athos said after leaping from his chair to pin him back down.

Aramis fought against him with all his strength and managed to get out a gruff of protest.

"Aramis, look at me!" Athos yelled and Aramis stopped his struggling to obey.  
Athos' eyes were sad but there was a tiny hint of fondness in them, "We will go after him, alright? We will, I promise. Just not right now. He needs space and you need to get a little more strength in you."

Aramis was getting angry and pointed to the door in frustration, mentally pleading with Athos to understand that Porthos could be heading anywhere in that moment, further and further away from them.

Athos shook his head and smiled, "I have a feeling where he's heading to. Did he say anything to you?"

Aramis shook his head, still pointing at the door.

Athos sighed and gently patted Aramis' arm so that he would relax. He let it drop but he was still fuming and breathing deeply.

"He'll probably head to the Court. To Flea." Athos said.

Aramis narrowed his eyes and frowned in disagreement.

Athos raised his hands to pacify him, "Think about it. He's angry with himself and he's upset about what happened. Eventually he will miss us. Besides, you are hurt. Porthos will not stray far knowing that you might need him. He will wait and probably monitor you somehow, from a distance, to make sure you're alright before he leaves somewhere. If by that time he still wants to leave of course."

Aramis huffed. He didn't like the idea of Porthos going back to the Court but he could not deny that Athos had a point. If it had been the other way around, he would also want to make sure that Porthos was absolutely alright before properly leaving. He glanced at the bit of the garrison he could see out the window and sighed in defeat.

"Treville has informed me of course that Porthos' uniform will be waiting for him upon his return. Whenever that may be." Athos said reassuringly as Aramis rested his back against the pillows once more.

Athos stood up, "I'll bring you some soup. I can't imagine you'll be able to swallow anything solid."

When Aramis was once more alone in Porthos' room he looked around. There wasn't much in it besides the bed and the small table. The brass candlestick was still lying on the floor where it had landed and Aramis felt a tear escape him. He vaguely wondered what Porthos was doing in that moment before shutting his eyes once more.


	2. Chapter 2

When Athos woke him to eat his soup it was an hour later.

“Sorry,” Athos said, “I know you must be tired but you do need to eat.”

Aramis took the soup with a smile of gratitude. Though it was not very hot, he struggled to swallow it as it burned all the way down. He grimaced and started to cough. Athos had water ready for him and after taking a few sips, the burning subsided.

“You’ll have to take it slow, your throat is still healing.” Athos said, “How are you feeling besides that?”

Determined not to prolong the time until they go find Porthos and ignoring his thumping head, Aramis gave Athos a massive smile.

Athos stared at him, “I don’t believe you, eat your soup.”

Aramis sighed as the smile dropped from his face and he took another spoonful, swallowing it as slow as possible, which helped.

“I know you want to bring him back, Aramis.” Athos said, “However it will do neither of you good if you left now. You need a bit more rest until your headache subsides – yes, I know you have a headache – and it won’t do Porthos good to see you in pain.”

Aramis placed a palm on the bandage on his throat, then gestured to the rest of his body, then back to his throat.

It took Athos a moment to understand but eventually he responded, “I know it’s just your throat but, like I said, Porthos needs to cool off. We’ll go the day after tomorrow alright?”

Aramis chewed his lip, contemplating.

“It’s not up for debate.” Athos said, “Unless you’d rather leave later than that.”

Aramis shook his head urgently and Athos smiled, “I still see soup in your bowl.”

Aramis rolled his eyes and continued to eat.

…

Aramis passed the next day watching the goings-on of the garrison in general peace. His head was feeling better and his throat was slightly less sensitive. He watched as his fellow musketeers trained around him, watched as they came and went with envy. It was, at the very least, a sunny day. Athos would come spend time with him as often as he could, to try and distract him from his misery. But Aramis could not stop worrying about Porthos.

It was around the middle of the day when Aramis realised just how spot-on Athos was in his assumptions of what Porthos would do. It was not uncommon for young boys to wander into the garrison hoping to glimpse a sword fight or whatever their imaginations would cook up. Therefore Aramis was not startled when a small child found his way into the garrison, eyes wide and mouth agape as he took in the horses, the uniforms and the training.

After a while, Aramis noticed that the boy kept glancing at him out of the corners of his eyes. He didn’t think much of it until the boy started to stare and Aramis felt uncomfortable. He turned his head to eye the boy more closely. He was small and wore clothes that were clearly handed down by someone larger. The fabric had holes in it and it was covered in dirt. The boy’s hair was in complete disarray and he was barefoot. When Aramis’ eyes fell on the money pouch that the child carried in his hand, he realised that the boy was far too poor to be walking around with that many coins. The boy caught him staring and startled. Aramis narrowed his eyes as he realised that this child had clearly been paid to spy on him.

As Aramis came to this conclusion, he stood from his chair. The boy turned to run away and Aramis started to run after him. If he followed this child, he would surely lead him back to Porthos. Before Aramis had even made it past the garrison gates, two hands grabbed his arms and spun him around.

“Aramis for heaven’s sake, what part of ‘not yet’ did you not understand?” Athos said.

Annoyed, Aramis turned around to gesture to the boy, who was by now long gone, and looked back to Athos.

His brother rubbed a hand over his face, “Yes, I know. I saw him too. I told you Porthos would find a way to keep an eye on you didn’t I?”

Aramis gestured in the same direction again, frustrated. They had had a chance to find Porthos and that chance had just slipped away.

“He’ll be back tomorrow, mon ami.” Athos said reassuringly.

Aramis slumped his shoulders and kicked a stone. Athos was right, of course.

“Come, sit down, you need more soup.” Athos said, guiding him back to the bench he was at.

Aramis stared at him, then touched his stomach with both his hands and moved them away from his body to silently communicate a large stomach.

Athos rolled his eyes, “No… I’m not trying to make you fat.”

As he sat down, Aramis glanced to the small group of recruits Athos had been training on the other side of the garrison, then back at Athos and then back at them.

Athos frowned, “I don’t understand.”

“Y… you’re… li… a hawk.” Aramis croaked.

“Hush,” Athos said, “Don’t use your voice, and yes I am. You were being far too well behaved and I just knew you would try something the minute i had my back turned.”

It was Aramis’ turn to roll his eyes but he sat patiently as he waited for Athos to bring him soup.

He sighed. What if Porthos was not at the Court? What if that boy was simply there to watch the musketeers train? What if Porthos was long gone? What if Porthos was beating himself up over what happened? What if Porthos was never coming back? What if Porthos left forever?

A hand grabbed his chin and squeezed. Aramis looked up and his eyes landed on Athos’ gaze.

“If you don’t take a deep breath,” Athos said, “I will make you wait another day.”

Aramis closed his eyes and did as instructed, exhaling shakily.

“Good,” Athos said, “Now eat.”

Aramis looked down at his bowl of soup, not recalling Athos returning with it.

They ate in silence for a bit and Aramis was distinctly aware of Athos watching him.

“I know this is difficult.” Athos said eventually, “It’s difficult for me too. But we must not rush this. You and Porthos are too strong headed for your own good.”

Aramis raised a brow and Athos sighed.

“Fine,” His brother said, “We are ALL too strong headed for our own good.”

When night came, Aramis made his way back to Porthos’ room to make up the bed and pick up the candlestick so that everything was in perfect order for his return. When he was done making the bed as perfect as possible, he sat down and placed his palm on the pillow gently. He really just wanted to make everything alright again.

The door opened and Athos stepped in looking thunderous. As soon as his eyes fell on Aramis, his shoulders relaxed and he ran a hand through his hair.

“You weren’t in your room.” He explained, “I thought you had run off to the Court or something.”

Aramis smiled sadly and looked back at the pillow. Athos stepped closer and rested his hand on Aramis’ shoulder.

“Everything’s going to be alright, Aramis.”

Aramis nodded and sighed defeatedly.

“Come,” Athos said, “I have tea brewing and a fire burning. It would be awfully dismal if I didn’t have someone to share it with.”

Aramis smiled and followed Athos to his room.

…

It was far too early in the morning when Athos was woken from an already dressed Aramis practically diving on his bed. He shot up, fully alert and startled. Aramis was already pulling the bed sheets off him in his enthusiasm.

“Alright, alright!” Athos yelled, getting up, “Goodness you’re like a child.”

Aramis was all smiles as he handed Athos a fresh cup of tea to help him wake up.

“Thank you,” Athos said as he eyed Aramis over the teacup, “How’s your throat?”

Aramis waved his hand in the air in dismissal and started to fish a shirt out of Athos’ draw for him to put on. Athos rolled his eyes. He had to burst this bubble before Aramis got too hurt.

“Aramis…” Athos begun and the tone of his voice made Aramis stiffen and turn around to face him, “You know how stubborn Porthos is.”

Aramis frowned and nodded.

“I know you don’t blame him for what happened,” Athos continued and Aramis nodded his head in agreement, “And you know how protective Porthos is of us.”

Athos took a sip of his tea and watched Aramis bite his lip.

“Anyway,” He said, “What I mean to say is that he might not return with us today.”

Aramis looked so forlorn that Athos went to embrace him after placing his tea cup on the table next to his bed.

“Listen,” He said, holding Aramis at arms length, “This is not easy for us but it must surely be even worse for Porthos.”

Aramis nodded sadly.

“At least we can try to convince him that what happened was not his fault either.” Athos said.

Aramis nodded, “I startled h… m.”

“Shh,” Athos scolded, “You are not yet recovered.”

As Athos got dressed, a thought occurred to him, “Let me do the talking, alright? It wont do you good to hurt your throat more and it wont do Porthos good to hear you sound like an old woman.”

He caught the pillow that was aimed at his head with a smile, glad that he had brought Aramis’ mood up again.

…

They made their way to the Court on foot and covered in hooded coats so as not to draw any attention to themselves. Aramis wore a scarf over his bandaged neck and Athos had to grab him by the shoulders every so often to slow him down.

“Aramis, we are supposed to be as inconspicuous as possible.” He scolded.

Aramis threw him a glare but slowed down all the same.

Once they entered the Court it was clear that there was a problem. All around them were narrow passages of old dilapidated buildings. Between the buildings were small little shelters built of scrap wood and fabric. People walked passed them, eyeing them suspiciously and bumping into them. Aramis tightened the grip he had on his dagger under his coat. It would have been foolish to arrive unarmed but they agreed that the use of weaponry would be an absolute last resort. They didn’t want word to spread of two mysterious armed men in the Court.

“Stay here,” Athos said, “I’ll go ask that woman if she knows where Flea or Porthos are.”

Aramis looked where Athos was heading and saw an old woman begging a little further down the passage that was in front of them. In his peripheral vision, he saw someone watching him. When he turned his head, he saw the same young boy he had seen in the garrison the previous day. If there was a chance at finding Porthos, it was him.

Since Aramis knew it would draw too much attention and would cause his throat pain if he called out, he started to walk towards the boy. The boy seemed to startle though and quickly started to run away. Aramis picked up his pace and chased after him. He was fast and seemed to know every twist and turn ahead of them. Aramis struggled to keep up. The boy turned a corner suddenly and when Aramis followed, he was faced with two empty passageways and had no idea which one the boy had taken.

As Aramis caught his breath, he took in his surroundings. The boy seemed to have lead him much deeper into the Court and Aramis realised with a sudden jolt that he was lost.

Athos was going to kill him.

…

Aramis tried to track back but could not remember all the twists and turns the boy had taken him through. He chewed his lip and became distinctly aware of the people watching him. Every now and then he would turn around sharply, paranoid that he was being followed. He turned a corner and there was a tall, large hooded figure at the end of the narrow walkway. The man had his back to him and was talking to another, slightly smaller man.

“P…?” Aramis tried to call out but his voice broke.

He headed towards the pair and when he was close enough, he touched the man’s arm, hoping it was his brother. As the man turned around however, Aramis realised that that was not the case.

“What do you want?” The big man grunted, moving his light brown hair away from his forehead with a thumb and staring down at Aramis.

Aramis stepped back and held up his hands in apology. The man simply raised a brow and Aramis turned around to head back but walked straight into another man, who had long black hair tied back with a menacing glare that rivaled the first man. A hand landed on his shoulder and spun him around.

“I asked you a question.” The first man said before removing his hand from Aramis’ shoulder.

Not knowing quite how he was going to get out of the situation without talking, he threw the man a reluctant smile.

“What are you, mute?” The man asked, causing his two friends to laugh.

Aramis frowned, realising this was only going to go one way. The flicked his arm into his coat and withdrew his dagger, hoping that he would be able to take at least one of them out and make a run for it. Not only was he outnumbered, he was considerably smaller than the men surrounding him.

The first man chuckled and cracked his knuckles, “This is going to be fun.”

He threw his fist forward to hit Aramis but Aramis ducked, resulting in the man almost hitting his friend. He used the moment of confusion to cut the man’s arm. The man cried out in anger and moved to grab Aramis but he was no match for the musketeer’s speed. Aramis stepped back and the man fell against the wall of the narrow passage. Just as Aramis was about to turn and run, he felt the man behind him wrap an arm around his neck in a choke-hold.

Aramis released a broken yell and gasped at the pressure on his bruised neck. The man that had fell into the wall signalled behind him for the third man to come forward. He was shorter but just as muscular and he punched Aramis hard in the gut. Aramis gasped again as the wind was knocked out of him. He dropped his dagger and the man, who Aramis assumed to be the leader, picked it up with a smug smile.

“You’re going to pay for that,” He said, gesturing to the cut Aramis left on his arm.

He brought the blade up next to Aramis’ right eye and ran it down his skin. He didn’t need to apply much pressure as the blade was sharp and Aramis hissed as it cut him. The man dragged the blade down to Aramis’ cheek. Aramis squirmed and lifted his knees, trying to kick forward. The man holding him anticipated his move though, and stepped back with a turn, causing Aramis to kick the air. The man holding his dagger grinned and threw a back-handed punch at Aramis’ face. His fist landed on the side of Aramis’ cut eye but it brought him closer. Ignoring his throbbing face, he kicked out again, getting the man on his lower stomach, above his groin. The man let out an ‘oof’ of surprise and growled, aiming another punch to Aramis’ face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for your kudos and comments :)


	3. Chapter 3

As the man swung, Aramis was pulled backwards by the other man behind him and they both landed on the ground. The minute the man’s arm loosened around his throat, Aramis rolled off him and looked up to see Athos hitting the man on the ground with the back of his own dagger, rendering him unconscious. Aramis looked up to the man that had punched him and saw that Porthos was wrestling him to the ground. Remembering the third man, Aramis saw that he was about to draw a pistol. He grabbed his dagger from the ground, which the man must have dropped when Porthos grabbed him, and threw it towards the third man, aiming it at his arm.

The dagger landed exactly where Aramis had aimed and the man yelled in pain. Athos was up and heading toward him determinedly, unnoticed by the man, who was too concerned over his new injury. Athos swung a hard punch and the man fell to the floor, unconscious. Aramis winced in sympathy at the pain that that must have caused Athos’ fist but felt a surge of admiration towards his brother.

Porthos had the big man pinned down and his face looked the angriest Aramis had ever seen. He head-butted the man and released him when he lost consciousness. Aramis stood up, relieved. He winced at the pain he was in; on his stomach, his neck and his face, distinctly aware of the blood dripping from his cheek.

Athos stepped over the three unconscious men and headed straight to him, his face furious. Aramis stepped back against the stone wall, startled. His brother grabbed his chin and tilted his face to an angle, to take a closer look at the cut, and then released him.

“What the hell was that Aramis?” He yelled, “I turned my back for FIVE SECONDS and you were gone! What would have happened if we hadn’t found you?”

“The… b… bo…y” Aramis tried to explain.

“Shut it.” Athos said, clearly still fuming, “Where else are you hurt?”

Aramis ignored him, he was staring at Porthos now, who was staring at him. His face was not giving away much emotion. Porthos’ right brow was bleeding and Aramis stepped over one of the men to get to him. Porthos didn’t move, which Aramis took to be a good sign. Just as Aramis reached out to touch his brow, Porthos grabbed his wrist to stop him.

“Answer the question.” Porthos said, his voice low and controlled.

Something changed on Porthos’ face though, when Aramis remained silent. He dropped Aramis’ wrist.

“You can’t though, can you?” Porthos said, “You can’t answer because I almost killed you.”

Aramis cringed and Porthos walked past him. Aramis reached up and grabbed his shoulder but his brother shook his hand off. Athos, ever the determined one, stepped in front of him. The passage was just barely big enough for two people to stand next to each other and in order for Porthos to walk around Athos, he would have to physically move him out of the way.

“Move.” Porthos said, his voice not angry but sad.

“No.” Athos said, crossing his arms, “You will come back to the garrison with us. You will allow us to stitch your brow.”

Aramis smirked, there was never saying no to a determined Athos, there was just something about his voice.

“Then,” Athos continued, “The two of us will tend to Aramis’ injuries.”

The smile promptly dropped from Aramis’ face. He dabbed at his cut with his sleeve and noticed it had stopped bleeding.

“And then,” Athos said, “You are going to listen to what Aramis and I have to say. And after that, you can leave if you still wish.”

Suddenly panicking, Aramis rushed forward and waved his hands at Athos to ask him why he had said that. He was aware of Porthos watching him closely.

“Relax, Aramis,” Athos said, “He won’t want to leave after what we’ve got to say.”

“You seem awfully confident about that,” Porthos said, crossing his arms as well.

“I am.” Athos replied simply.

They stared each other down for a long moment. Aramis’ eyes moved from the one to the other, wondering if he and Athos had enough strength to drag Porthos back if they needed to.

One of the men at his feet groaned and Aramis promptly kicked him to shut him up.

Porthos’ gaze turned to Aramis, who offered him a reassuring smile. Porthos didn’t smile back but something in his face eased slightly. He looked Aramis over, observing his face and looked at the scarf around his neck, then looked back to Athos and his frown deepened.

“You don’t need me to help you take care of Aramis’ injuries.” Porthos said.

Athos’ gaze met Aramis’ and he said, “Well, we do not know what injuries he has that we cannot see.”

Aramis looked back at Athos, confused. He saw Porthos’ head turn to him in his peripheral vision and Athos raised his eyebrows high. Understanding, Aramis hunched over and groaned dramatically. Porthos’ hand shot out to support him and Aramis couldn’t help the smile he sent to him as he straightened again.

Porthos released his grip on his shoulder and frowned again, “That’s not funny.”

Aramis smiled innocently.

“Come,” Athos said, not giving Porthos a chance to argue further, “You will have to lead us out of here, brother. I’m afraid we do not know the way.”

…

They followed Porthos in silence. Once they were out of the Court, Aramis touched Athos’ shoulder to get his attention. He gestured between his two brothers and raised his hands as if to ask a question. The interaction did not go unnoticed by Porthos, who had a guilty look on his face.

“Ah,” Athos said, understanding the gestures, “After you disappeared, I had no idea which direction to head. But the old woman, it seemed, knew where I could find Porthos, at the right price of course. I decided I would have a better chance finding you with Porthos, so I headed for him. When I found him, the boy from yesterday found us and told Porthos where he had last seen you and that you had been chasing him.”

Aramis nodded and smiled at his brothers. Athos returned the smile but Porthos simply turned back and started walking again.

Aramis’ head and stomach were throbbing by the time they made it back to the garrison. They headed for Athos’ room and the man lit a fire and begun to brew some tea. Porthos brought a chair over to Aramis and pushed him down onto it by his shoulder.

“Come on,” He said, “Let me see so that I can… so that I can get the hell out of here.”

Deciding he had had enough, Aramis pushed Porthos’ hand away and folded his arms, staring defiantly up at the man. Porthos rose a surprised eyebrow and Athos gave a soft chuckle from behind them.

“He’s not going to let you touch him before you promise you wont leave.” Athos said and Porthos rolled his eyes and took a chair next to Aramis.

“I try not to make promises, especially ones I don’t intend on keeping.” He said stubbornly.

Athos walked over to them and tilted Aramis’ face up again, “Do you need any immediate attention?”

Aramis shook his head and Athos narrowed his eyes. After staring at Aramis for a few seconds, seemingly trying to decide whether or not to believe him, Athos walked back to the fire to pour their tea.

“Porthos,” Athos begun, “You had no idea where you were in the moment that it happened. Aramis filled me in as much as he could. It was dark and he startled you while you were having a nightmare. He should have known better, especially since nightmares are not something you seldom experience. It’s as simple as that, really.”

Athos handed Porthos his tea but the man was glaring daggers at him. Without accepting the cup, Porthos stood up abruptly.

“Simple?” He yelled, “You think that me strangling my brother almost to his last drawing breath is a simple thing that we can just move on from? I should be punished! I should be banned from the garrison!”

Aramis stood up abruptly and yanked down hard on Porthos’ arm with all his weight to get him to sit down again. Porthos barely even budged and simply ignored Aramis, extending his arm out slowly to push him away. Aramis growled in an attempt to be taken seriously.

“Aramis, sit down before you hurt yourself.” Athos ordered.

Aramis ignored him, marching to one of Athos’ draws where he knew he kept a small bag of medical supplies. He was aware of his brothers watching him as he readied a needle and thread. He walked over to Porthos and pointed sharply down at the chair he had been occupying a moment ago. Porthos stared at the needle apprehensively but sat down, his shoulders remaining tense.

As Aramis begun to tend to Porthos’ brow, Athos spoke again, “You are the only person you believe is in need of punishment, Porthos. Aramis doesn’t believe it, I don’t believe it and Treville certainly doesn’t believe it.”

Porthos replied with an unconvinced grunt and shot a brief glance at Aramis out of the corner of his eye. From Aramis’ close perspective, he could see a tiny bit of moisture gather in Porthos’ eyes.

“Still doesn’t excuse what I did though.” Porthos said.

“It does,” Athos said, his voice gentle, “We are people who have seen things many can’t even imagine in their worst dreams. Why don’t you tell us what you dreamt about?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Porthos said. Aramis poked him deliberately with the needle and Porthos flinched, shooting him another look out of the corner of his eye. Aramis simply smiled back at him.

“It does,” Athos said, “Have your tea.”

Athos handed Porthos his tea for the second time and the man took it.

“I dreamt we were being attacked. On the road. They were trying to kill the two of you. They were succeeding.” Porthos looked forlorn and Aramis ran a hand through his hair briefly before going back to his stitching. Porthos’ shoulders relaxed only a tiny bit but Aramis felt hope blossom in his chest.

“And who did you think was attacking you when you woke up?” Athos asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“One of the people who were attacking us.” Porthos answered, clearly still deeply unhappy.

“Would you ever strangle Aramis again?”

“What? No!” Porthos said, clenching his fists.

Aramis threw Athos an angry glare and hurriedly finished his stitching.

Ignoring Aramis, Athos continued making his point, “Would you ever knowingly hurt Aramis? Would you ever try to kill him? Would you ever try to kill either of us?”

“Of course not!” Porthos yelled, jumping from his chair only seconds after Aramis had finished tending to his gash.

“Well there you go.” Athos said, “You would never hurt us, Porthos. You care about us too much for that.”

“Which is exactly why I don’t belong here anymore! I wont take the chance of that happening again!” Porthos begun to make his way to the door.

“It wont happen again,” Athos said.

“How do you know that?” Porthos asked, his hand reaching for the door.

“Because now we know not to wake you from a nightmare.”

Porthos hesitated. He looked to Aramis who gave him a reassuring smile but then his eyes fell on the scarf around Aramis’ neck and he shook his head.

“No.” He said, “I can’t live with myself.”

He turned around to open the door and Aramis kicked the chair in front of him, causing Porthos to turn around again.

“No!” Aramis yelled and his throat burned. He didn’t care, he had had enough of this already, “How many t-times did I punch or kick y… kick you because I was having a night…mare? Did I not p…nch you and h-hurt you when I had a fever? H… a… have I not h-hurt you a thou…. sand times bec-because I didn’t know wh… ere I was?”

His voice was hoarse and he was gasping, his heart thundering from the fear of Porthos walking away. Porthos took a worried step closer and Athos stood up.

“You never once almost killed me, Aramis.” Porthos said gently.

“Bull shi-shit!” Aramis croaked, “H-how many times have w-we all done som…ing reckless! Alm…st get-getting each other killed all the t-time! St-stop beating yourself up P…ths! You c-can’t le…ave! W-we need you.”

Aramis whispered the last sentence, his voice was hoarse and his throat was aching. He was starting to hyperventilate, already making arrangements in his head of how he could follow Porthos in secret or hold him hostage. He was looking at the floor, gasping after his outburst. He didn’t notice Porthos move closer. Silently, warm arms wrapped around him and pulled him into a hug.

“Take a deep breath,” Porthos whispered, “I’ve caused enough damage already, don’t need you having a panic attack on my account.”

“Stop b-beating yourself u…p.” Aramis repeated.

“Stop using your voice, Aramis.” Athos said and Aramis heard him step closer and felt him run a hand through his hair.

Aramis squeezed Porthos back and shoved his face in his chest, shameful of the tears running down his cheek. He simply couldn’t imagine one of his brothers leaving, his mind could not comprehend it. Aramis sniffed audibly and blushed in embarrassment.

Porthos pulled away to look at his eyes and took his face in his hands, “Don’t cry, mon ami. I hate it when you cry.”

Porthos hugged him again and Athos was rubbing a hand up and down his back.

“Please forgive me, Aramis. I’m sorry for what I did to you.” Porthos’ voice came from above his head.

“Th-there’s noth…ing to forgive, Porthos.” Aramis’ voice came out painfully gruff and he winced.

“That’s enough speaking, Aramis.” Porthos said, “You know how Athos hates to repeat himself.”

At Porthos’ more relaxed tone, Aramis could finally release the tension in his shoulders, not realising that it had been there since Porthos walked out the door.

“That reminds me,” Athos said, “We need to take a look at your throat, I’m sure that man did more damage.”

Porthos released him slowly but Aramis clung onto his arms, fearful his brother might still turn around.

Porthos sighed sadly and looked at him, “It’s okay, I’m not going anywhere.”

Aramis smiled up at him, trying to communicate everything in his mind to Porthos.

“It’s going to take me a while to forgive myself.” Porthos said softly, “But I need you two morons too.”

“Charming.” Athos said flatly.

Once Aramis no longer had the concern of losing Porthos and his body no longer had his brother’s support, he became aware of how much his stomach hurt and he slouched slightly, releasing a small grunt of pain.

“Sit down,” Porthos ordered, “Let us see.”

After removing his shirt, they found a large purple bruise on his stomach and Porthos growled, “You really should not have run off like you did.”

Aramis shrugged and mouthed ‘sorry’, so as not to risk Athos’ wrath. After rubbing a bit of salve on it, they moved to Aramis’ face and cleaned the cut as best they could through Aramis’ constant flinching. It did not require any stitches, having stopped bleeding ages ago. They put salve on his bruised cheekbone and finally, they removed the scarf and bandages on his neck.

Aramis noticed how Porthos diverted his gaze instantly. Aramis saw his suddenly paler complexion and grabbed his hand, smiling at him reassuringly. Porthos did not smile back but rather planted a gentle kiss to Aramis’ forehead.

“Well,” Athos said, “The chokehold didn’t help, but as long as we keep applying salve and you shut your loud mouth, it will heal soon enough.”

Aramis pulled his tongue out at him and finally, Porthos laughed. The sound was like a sip of cool water after a long, hot day.

Athos gently placed a fresh bandage over Aramis’ throat and threatened to force the tea he’d brewed down their throats. They spent the rest of the day in Athos’ room. Treville had stopped by to give Porthos his uniform back, telling him to stop being an idiot. Aramis had burst out laughing gruffly after he left and Porthos frowned at him.

“Think that’s funny?” He asked, grinning at Aramis’ giggles.

“Well,” Athos said, “It’s true, you are an idiot. But you two are my favourite idiots.”

Aramis abruptly stopped laughing, throwing Athos a scandalised look.

After sitting in comfortable silence, Porthos said, “I’ll have to go get my stuff from Flea.”

“That can wait ’til tomorrow.” Athos said and Porthos nodded.

“And Aramis can stay here,” Porthos announced, with Athos nodding vigorously in agreement.

Aramis made his face look positively hurt and stuck his bottom lip out.

“Don’t even try,” Porthos said, “trouble just finds you.”

“It’s true,” Athos said, “I mean I really only turned around for two seconds.”

Porthos nodded knowingly, “Oh I believe you. He’s done that to me before. I think we should just ban him from leaving the garrison.”

“Porthos,” Athos said, “That is a most splendid idea.”

Aramis smiled and fell asleep to them talking about him as if he weren’t there. Later, he was vaguely aware of Porthos carrying him to the bed.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, I got the idea for this story from the kink meme, here is the prompt:
> 
> Porthos has a nightmare and Aramis attempts to wake him up... not a smart move. Porthos doesn't take kindly to being surprised and reacts aggressively. Not realising it's Aramis, he either punches him in the face or strangles him (or both). Up to author what happens next, maybe Athos walks in and has to pry Porthos' hands off Aramis' neck. Porthos, realising what he's done feels terrible but Aramis refuses to let him blame himself.
> 
> ...
> 
> This was a tough one to write because I can't imagine Porthos ever hurting Aramis, which is why his reaction is so dramatic.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed :)


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